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Poem by Maria Jane Jewsbury The Happy Spirit Weep not, my mother, weep not, I am blest, But must leave heaven if I return to thee; For I am where the weary are at rest, The wicked cease from troubling Come to me! Old Epitaph. WHY do ye weep? to know that dust No longer dims my soul? To know that I am rendered just A victor at heaven's goal? Or weep ye that I weep no more That sorrow's living reign is o'er? Father art thou a man of tears, Because thy child is free From the earthly strifes and human fears, Oppressive ev'n to thee? Nay, triumph that thou bad'st me love The rest, that I have found above. My mother weep not tears will hide My glory from thy view; If thou hadst taught me guile, or pride, Then tears of blood were due; But thy fond lips spoke truths divine, Rejoice, that now their meed is mine. Sister, sweet sister, leave my tomb, Thy loved one is not there, Nor will its planted flow'rets bloom Whilst wept on by despair; I dwell in blissful scenes of light, Rejoice, that thou didst aid my flight. Let faith's resplendent sun arise, And scatter from each soul The clouds that veil its native skies, The mists that round it roll; Rejoice, that I have found a home, Whence never more my feet will roam. Tears for the dead who die in sin, And tears for living crime; Tears when the conscience wakes within First in expiring time; Tears for the lost but Heaven's own voice Says for the Christian dead rejoice. Maria Jane Jewsbury Maria Jane Jewsbury's other poems:
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